


No More

by mmorgan317



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Max Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmorgan317/pseuds/mmorgan317
Summary: Liz often dreamed of the night she was shot. Most of the time it ended with her actually dying, but other times it turned into a nightmare, with Max being shot and killed in her place. Today, her dreams became reality, and Liz was not okay with it. Max whump. Hints of Echo, but nothing implicit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Roswell, New Mexico, including its characters, plots, actors, location, etc. I’m simply borrowing it so I can make some fans happy..hopefully, lol
> 
> Author’s Note: Y’all, I love #RoswellNM. Seriously, there isn’t anything I don’t like about it. I like the characters, the actors, the direction they’re heading, the relationships. All of it. 
> 
> I realize that most of the fandom is in love with Malex, and I can’t blame them. Michael is effing hot and he’s got the whole “suffering in silence” thing going for him. But, alas, I’m in love with a different character - Max. Nathan’s honey-brown eyes and floppy hair are really working for him and for this character. Add to the fact that this character is a dork/nerd and he can heal with his hands, and I’m hooked, line and sinker.
> 
> 2: This fit perfectly for my Bad Things Happen Bingo slot of "Arm in a Sling". Yay! I have one done!

**1**

 

The anniversary of Rosa’s death was always hard. For years Liz had blamed her sister for her actions, for their consequences, and she hadn’t been able to properly grieve because of it. Now, she had trouble moving on for a different reason entirely. It had been a year since her world had been turned upside down, but nothing more than that had been accomplished. Liz still didn’t know who killed her sister, but she was positive it hadn’t been Max Evans. 

Looking over at the milkshake bar, Liz rolled her eyes. “Alright. Spill.” He raised his eyebrows at her, his expression showing he didn’t understand what she meant; or at least that he was  _ pretending  _ he didn’t understand what she meant. Liz rolled her eyes again and leaned against the bar. “You have been here every night after your shift for a week. We both know you don’t like the food that much, so what is it?” 

“Maybe I just like the company,” Max answered, giving her a smirk that threatened to make her smile back. 

“No,” she said with a minute shake of her head. She grabbed hold of his shake to share it with him. “Something’s up. What is it?”

His eyes locked on her lips as they grabbed the straw, his gaze remaining fixed as she drank. He quickly looked away, his brow furrowed. He scanned the room, seeming to pause on each patron before moving on to the next one. When he looked back at her, his expression was hesitant. Covering it by taking his shake back, he said, “After what happened last year, I wanted to keep an eye on the place.” 

Keep an eye on her, more like, but Liz didn’t point it out; they both knew what he meant. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she felt safer knowing he was there. “I take it they couldn’t connect Wyatt Long to last year’s shooting.” 

“The test results mysteriously disappeared,” he answered with a sardonic smile, his knuckles growing white as his grip on the milkshake glass in front of him tightened. When the lights within the cafe began to flicker, Liz tamped down on the instinct to step away from him. He wasn’t a danger to her, but even after a year it was hard to remember that whenever his emotions manifested. 

It was too easy to forget that Max wasn’t simply ‘a guy from Roswell ’and that he could actually kill you if he wished to. Not that Liz thought he was capable of directly harming her, but while it might appear he knew what he was doing, Liz also knew there were times when Max wasn’t as in control of his abilities as he thought, and  _ that  _ was what made him dangerous. 

“Of course they did,” she said as she pushed away from the counter to gather the open tickets, giving herself a moment to get control of herself before she began to cash out the remaining customers. She smiled as she handed them their bills, wishing them a good night as she did, then turned off the open sign and flipped the chairs on top of the vacated tables. “So you’re here to make sure he doesn’t succeed if he tries a second time,” she said as she returned to the milkshake bar. 

He smirked. “Something like that.” 

“Well,” Liz said as she tossed a rag at him. He caught it deftly then gave her a quizzical look. “If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna help.” She pointed to the tables in the corner where a couple of diners had just left. He followed her finger, turned back to her with eyebrows raised, then smiled and got up to do as he was told. Liz made sure he was doing things properly, which amazingly he was, then she went to the kitchen to check on the cooks and tell them to start shutting down. 

While in the back, Liz heard the bell ring above the door, but she ignored it, assuming it was one of the diners leaving. She stayed to snack on some extra fries that had been made, then went back out to begin some of the side-work for the morning. As expected, the other customers had left and now it was just her and Max in the front of the cafe. He turned to look at her as she grabbed the sugar caddies and ketchup bottles, but he said nothing as he continued to clean the tables. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Max said out of the blue as he deposited the dirty towel behind the bar. 

Liz briefly paused in her ministrations as her mind searched for his meaning. It took a while for her to figure out that he had noticed her reaction to him, and that he was trying to reassure her. Liz looked in the direction of the kitchen when she heard the back door close, signaling that it was just her and Max alone. Oddly, she didn’t mind the idea. Returning back to her work she said, “I’m not.” 

“Right,” he said, sounding as though he didn’t believe her. He paused then said, “Liz.” 

She turned around to find that him standing in front of her, his back to the windows. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then all hell broke loose.

  
  


**oOo**

  
  
  


Liz often dreamed of the night she was shot. Most of the time it ended with her actually dying, but other times it turned into a nightmare, with Max being shot and killed in her place. Liz didn’t know what scared her most: the possibility of being shot again or the idea of someone she cared about being hurt instead. Both held a healthy amount of fear for her, but in the end she decided that it was watching someone she loved be in pain. 

Much like a year ago, the first thing both she and Max noticed were the windows being shot out. Then Max moved, quickly making sure to protect her with his larger frame as he yelled, “Down!” He grunted as his right arm wrapped around her, then he grunted again as they both hit the floor to let the barrage of bullets pass over them. Lying safely in his arms, Liz covered her head with her hands, using them as protection against the noise. Positioned like she was, she could tell his heart was racing; she could feel his ragged and unsteady breathing as though it were coming from her chest rather than his. 

There was more than one shooter this time,  _ that _ Liz could easily tell when several shots occurred at the same time, completely destroying the windows with ease. Liz thought she could hear buckshot alongside the single bullets, but there was too much chaos for her to be certain of anything. Fleetingly, Liz felt relief in knowing that her father was safely ensconced upstairs. Then the hail of bullets began anew and Liz curled deeper into Max. He attempted to pull her closer, but he didn’t get very far before his breath caught in his throat, a small groan bubbling in his chest, and a wet cough echoed in her ear.

After a few minutes more, the shots began to taper off before ceasing entirely. Liz only uncurled after she was certain no other hits were coming. Broken ketchup bottles littered the floor, the smell of the condiment making Liz’s stomach churn unpleasantly; after being covered in it for a night, Liz could no longer handle its smell or its taste. 

Now that everything was quiet, Liz could better hear Max’s breathing, and it didn’t sound good. Looking up, Liz looked at his face, dread and worry co-mingling in her stomach when she saw small traces of blood on his lips. “Max,” she said, getting ready to ask why he was coughing up blood. Then her eyes tracked to the red spot on the front of his khaki uniform and for a moment she lost all ability to think. “Oh my god,” she said in a mumble, half panicked. 

Max lay on the floor with his right arm now lying across his stomach, his body still in the semi-curled position he’d used to protect Liz, his left arm lying on the floor having been used to support her head. The red stain on his right shoulder continued to grow, but it was his extremely ragged breathing that worried her more. Grabbing the closest towel she could find, Liz placed her left hand on his back, refusing to allow herself to think of the wetness she felt when she did, then used her right to apply pressure to the wound in his right shoulder. Max groaned out a cry, his eyes opening with the renewed adrenaline. “Max,” she said, trying to grab his attention while he was lucid as she pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1, “Max, hey, are you hurt anywhere else?” 

“Liz,” he mumbled, seeming to have very little energy for much else. He coughed again, his expression showing just how much it hurt to do it, then closed his eyes as he continued to struggle to breathe.

_ “9-1-1, what is your emergency?” _

“My name is Liz Ortecho and I need an ambulance at the Crashdown Cafe. Deputy Max Evans has been shot; upper right chest. Come quickly.” Liz left the line open but tossed the phone to the side, not wanting to listen to their inane supportive babble. She’d given them the vital information which was enough for them to get there as well as bring Sheriff Valenti. 

The towel in her hand soon became stained with red. But even though Max’s blood covered her hand, something which she refused to think about because she’d probably have a breakdown if she did, Liz thought she could see the flow begin to ebb. Making sure to keep the pressure, Liz shifted so she could see his back, her stomach dropping that much more when she saw blood staining that side as well. She looked around for another towel, but when she didn’t see one she quickly took off her apron, wadded it up, and firmly pressed it against that wound as well. It worried her when Max didn’t even respond to the pain which the action undoubtedly produced. 

“Mija!” her father called, his worry for her safety clear in his voice even from the hallway which separated their home from the cafe. When he entered, he stood still for a moment, staring out at the destruction in his cafe, his expression a mixture of devastation and resignation. Then he located her and came running to her, heedless of the broken glass around him or her. 

“Papi, he’s having trouble breathing, help me get him up,” she instructed, not bothering to take the time to assure him of her safety; she was perfectly fine in comparison with Max. It took a moment for that to register, but when it did, her father moved swiftly, grabbing Max below the armpits and beginning to hoist him into a sitting position while Liz did her best to keep pressure on the gunshot wounds. “Por Dios, was he shot?” he asked as soon as Max was settled. He remained close in case Liz needed him, which Liz was grateful for.

“He was worried something like this would happen tonight,” she said absently as her mind slowly began to process everything. Although she sounded as though she was blaming herself for this happening, she wasn’t. She knew precisely who to blame and she hoped they got the bastard this time; something told her if Isobel or Michael got to Wyatt Long first, there would be nothing for the cops to find. 

“Was that why he kept coming by every night?” 

Liz could only nod, her emotions getting the better of her. Tears filled her eyes as she sat on the floor of the cafe with her father, listening to Max struggle to breathe. Absently, Liz lifted her hand to brush Max’s hair off his forehead, caressing the side of his face before she lowered it. Max took in a ragged breath, the action turning into a cough when he couldn’t quite get there. More blood came up, splattering his lips and the corner of his mouth. 

“Have you called an ambulance?” her father asked, his alarm evident. 

Liz opened her mouth to berate her father for the stupidness of his question, but she was stopped by the siren and flashing lights of the ambulance. She shared a look with her father, to which he merely held his hands up in surrender, then she went back to watching Max. Her heart stopped when she realized she couldn’t hear him breathe. “Max?” she said, her panic rising when he not only didn’t respond, but didn’t inhale again. “Max?”

Max inhaled sharply, his eyes shooting open when he drew little air in. Fear made the honey-brown in his eyes disappear as his pupils dilated and Liz found herself unable to move, practically paralyzed by strength of his terror. Max reached out to her father, his hand gripping her father’s forearm tightly. Out of instinct he tried doing the same with his right arm; he made it far enough to brush Liz’s thigh, then his face scrunched into an expression of pure pain, his grip on her father tightening that much more. 

“What’s happening?” one of the paramedics asked with urgency in their voice. 

It took a minute for Liz to register that help had arrived. Her father swiftly moved out of the way, giving the professionals room to work. “He can’t breathe,” he answered when he figured out she wasn’t going to. 

“Alright, we got it from here.” 

Her father’s hands were gentle yet strong as he guided her away. The towel that she’d had pressed against the front of Max’s shoulder stayed where it was, but the apron at the back fell swiftly to the floor. Liz watched as the paramedics triaged Max, then helped him to breathe. She flinched when they inserted a rather large needle into his chest, doubting he could feel it but disliking the idea of him being put through more pain. 

“Should we call his family?”

Liz paused at her father’s question. She honestly hadn’t really thought of calling them, figuring they’d just know. Of course, that’s not the way the world works, so of course they would need someone to call them and tell them what happened. Although she wouldn’t put it passed these three to be able to communicate telepathically, she had yet to see evidence of that being the case. Liz shook her head no. “I don’t have their number.” 

She stood with her father off to the side, watching as the paramedics carefully loaded Max onto the stretcher. Now that he was able to breathe properly, he seemed more aware. And in a lot more pain. Every movement made his face pinch and the veins in his neck stand out, as though he needed to cry out but wouldn’t allow himself the release. When they started to head towards the ambulance, Liz said, “I’m coming with him.” 

“I’m sorry ma’am, you can’t.” 

“I’ll drive you,” Sheriff Valenti said, no doubt inserting herself to assure Liz didn’t argue too much, “after I take your statement.” 

“My statement?” Liz countered, her eyes following Max as they wheeled him outside and into the ambulance. Logically, she knew that she would have to give a statement, but that side wasn’t the one in control of her thoughts or her mouth. “Why can’t you drive me there now and take my statement on the way?” 

Sheriff Valenti looked away from Liz, also watching the ambulance as it drove to off. Once it had turned the corner, she looked back at Liz, her expression concerned. “Look, I know you’re worried about Max, I am too. But we need to get your statement now. Once we’re done, I promise you, I will drive you to the hospital myself.” 

Liz thought about pointing out that she could drive herself to the hospital, but she checked that idea in favor of being safe. She may be steady right now, but she knew that by the time all was said and done, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands from shaking, let alone concentrate on the road. Then a thought occurred to her. “So does that mean that you’re actually going to investigate this time?” 

That put the Sheriff’s back up. Her placating manner disappeared instantly, her gaze cold and hard as her anger began to show. Liz knew the sheriff didn’t approve of her or her family, and she fully believed the reason the sheriff hadn’t looked too hard for the real shooter before was because she honestly didn’t care what happened to the cafe; so long as no one was hurt, whomever it was that really did the shooting could walk free. “We investigated a year ago, Liz, I assure you.” 

“Right, so you’re going to try to convince me the Gerardo Guerrera did it this time too?” Liz shot back, not believing anything this woman for a minute. “If you’re investigating, why is no one here to take photos or capture evidence? Because I can guarantee you there is definitely enough bullets in the walls to help you find the person who shot this place to all to hell.” 

“Mija,” her father said, his tone warning her to be careful. For his sake, she would try. 

“They are on their way as we speak,” Sheriff Valenti offered, her tone just as frigid. “Believe me, they are just as motivated to find out who did this as you are.” 

“Only because it was  _ Max  _ who got shot,” Liz snapped. “We both know that if it had been my father or me who had been injured, they wouldn’t be half so motivated.” 

“Enough!” her father snapped, his anger barely palpable to anyone who didn’t know him. He looked towards the sheriff, “Me disculpo por mija, Sheriff. It has been a traumatic evening for her.” 

“It’s okay Arturo,” Valenti forgave, seeming mollified. “It’s been a difficult night for all of us.” 

“Can I at least get cleaned up before we start?” Liz asked, barely keeping herself from rolling her eyes at the way her father rolled over and showed his belly every time the sheriff came around. She held up her hands to show why she asked. Max’s blood glistened dully in the light, the sight of it threatening to make Liz’s stomach empty itself. She lowered her hands when they began to shake, hiding them behind her back. 

The Sheriff paused for a moment, obviously hesitant with letting her go, probably believing she’d climb out the window or something else just as ridiculous once out of her sight. Then she nodded, a small smile of understanding on her face.

Liz turned to go upstairs then pivoted on her heel. “You might want to call Isobel and Michael. L-let them know what happened.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze softened a little when she said, “I sent Cam to tell them. I suspect they’re already on their way to Roswell Community Medical to wait for news on their brother as we speak.” 

“Right,” Liz said. She knew they would have sent someone to alert the family. Or at least called the family. So why did she feel the need to remind the sheriff how to do her job? She wanted to go get clean. Yet she was also hesitant. Liz knew the moment she was alone, she would crash, and she didn’t want that to happen. She had to be strong. 

Pivoting, Liz gathered herself and climbed the stairs, knowing that, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she wouldn’t be able to get Max’s blood off her hands for a long time to come. 

  
  


**oOo**

  
  


Isobel was just changing into Noah’s favorite outfit when the doorbell sounded. For a moment she thought of ignoring it, but she’d had an uneasy feeling for the last hour and she knew she shouldn’t. Putting on her robe, Is made her way to the door, Noah following behind her with a quizzical expression on his face. She’d told him about the feeling of sheer panic she’d felt not that long ago, but though he’d tried to explain it away, it had hung in the back of her mind, making her feel anxious and restless. 

“Cam,” she said when she recognized who was on her doorstep. “What are you doing here? Is Max alright?” There was worry on Cam’s face, but not sadness. Something had happened, but as far as Isobel could tell, he was alive.

“There was a shooting at the Crashdown Cafe,” Cam began, her words hesitant, but flowing. 

“Hasn’t Max been going there almost every night?” Noah asked Isobel, not quite getting what Cam was hinting. 

“He was shot, wasn’t he?” Isobel asked, having already gotten there. 

Even though she hadn’t known it at the time, Isobel had felt Max’s pain when it had happened. It had come and gone so quickly that she hadn’t recognized it for what it was. It boded well when it came to the possibility of her leaning on Noah more instead of Max, but Isobel was unhappy otherwise. The idea that her brother had been in pain for that long, was probably still in pain, bothered her and Isobel frowned. She still wasn’t sure where his panic had come from, but she knew she’d find out soon enough. 

Cam nodded, a single tear escaping down her cheek as her emotions got the better of her. While she and Max had tried “dating” in the beginning, it had become clear to both that it wasn’t going to work. They had parted amicably, still perfectly able to continue being partners. They had been friends before they had tried to be more and they remained friends after. Isobel knew that Cam cared about Max and didn’t like the idea of him hurting any more than the rest of them did. “I can take you to RCM when you’re ready.” 

“Give us three minutes,” Noah said, stepping aside to allow Cam to enter while simultaneously pulling Isobel with him towards the stairs. “We’ll be right down.” 

“Of course. Take your time. From what I can tell, he’ll be in surgery for a little while so there’s no rush.” 

Isobel quickly followed Noah upstairs, heading for a comfy pair of jeans, her favorite sweatshirt - which happened to be Noah’s from college - and her favorite pair of boots. On her way back down she grabbed phone and dialed Michael. 

_ “I’m already on my way,”  _ he answered, not one to pussyfoot around. Isobel was a little disappointed to hear that he didn’t sound quite as worried as she was, but she supposed that was just Michael. He had never been one to show what he was feeling; his foster parents had taught him at an early age how dangerous that could be. So he bottled it all up, refusing to show weakness to anyone. Alex Manes, it seemed, was the only person who could draw Michael out of his shell, and that both soothed and worried Isobel. Alex may not be his father’s son, but it wouldn’t take much pushing to make him that way. 

No further words were needed so they both hung up at the same time.

“I called Michael on my way here,” Cam said as Is leaned on the arm of a chair to put her boots on. Isobel nodded, wondering why Cam felt more comfortable calling Michael and personally coming to get Isobel. Was it because she knew how Isobel would react versus how Michael would react? 

“Do we know anything?” Is asked as Noah came down the stairs, dressed almost as casually as herself and looking just as interested in the answer to her question. 

“Not much beyond he got caught in a shooting at the cafe and that he was being transported to Roswell Community Medical for treatment.” 

Isobel nodded, not exactly thrilled with the lack of information, but realizing none of them were likely to get more until they got to the hospital. Theoretically, Liz ought to be able to shine more light on what happened, but Isobel doubted she’d be at the hospital by the time they got there; being a witness to a crime had its downsides.

_ And even if she did get there first, it wasn’t likely that  _ Michael  _ would allow her anywhere near Max.  _

From the beginning Michael hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of letting Liz in on their secret. But Max wouldn’t be dissuaded and had told her without either of his siblings’ permission or knowledge. Sure, he had  _ hinted  _ to Isobel that he was going to tell Liz, but he hadn’t outright said  _ when  _ he was going to do it; Plausible Deniability was something her family thrived on. Michael hadn’t handled it well when he found out that Liz knew; it had been his idea to go to the cafe and ensure that Liz knew  _ exactly  _ what she would be dealing with if she betrayed any of them. Now that Max had been hurt, and was defenseless should someone try anything, Isobel knew Michael would be even more against Liz Ortecho being in Max’s life. 

Too bad Max wasn’t going to give any of them a choice in the matter. Liz Ortecho was there to stay whether they wanted her or not.   
  


**TBC**

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for taking so long in getting this out. I struggle with writing hospital scenes; they're necessary, but I find them dull. 
> 
> 2: I have created an OC in this chapter. Bit of background on her: She's a veteran nurse at the hospital. She and Max have had plenty of interaction between his duties as a deputy and helping out at the hospital. 
> 
> Disclaimer: While I have consulted with medical professionals (some not based in the U.S.), I am in no way a medical professional myself. So if there's something wrong or off, please forgive me. I tried.

**2**

 

 

By the time Liz arrived at Roswell Community Medical, it was well into the middle of the night. Giving her statement hadn’t taken as long as she had thought it would, but getting clean had. Even though the blood had been easily washed away, Liz had kept on seeing it. She had scrubbed her hands until they were raw before she had gotten dressed. Looking down at them now, they were still a little red, but at least she knew they were clean. Liz refrained from rubbing them on her clothes once more just to make sure nothing was on them; she knew for a fact there wasn’t.

Roswell Community Medical Center was the closest trauma center for miles. Meaning that, while the E.R. waiting room was practically empty, the ambulance bay was not. Most people know New Mexico because of its chile; red or green, or both, it’s served at almost every restaurant in the state. But for most New Mexicans, think their home should be known for its drunk drivers since New Mexico is the 7th top state for DUI’s. It didn’t surprise Liz, therefore, to see a couple of ambulances transporting people who appeared to be victims of car accidents. Since none of the ambulances in the bay were carrying one Max Evans, Liz moved on into the main portion of the hospital.

Like the E.R., the hospital itself was a ghost town. Liz took a moment to look at the directory, ignoring Sheriff Valenti patiently waiting behind her, then took the nearest elevator up to the surgical floor where she knew she would find Isobel and Michael.

“Oh look, the calvary’s here,” Michael said as both Liz and the sheriff exited the elevator and came towards him and his sister. “So tell me, Sheriff, are you going to blame this one on an undocumented stranger too?”

“Michael,” Isobel hissed in warning while also looking angrily at the sheriff. Liz did her best to not to look pleased; at least there was _one_ other person who agreed with her. “That isn’t helping.”

“It really isn’t,” Doctor Kindelay said, smoothly insinuating herself into the conversation.

“How is my brother?” Isobel asked as Michael rolled his eyes and stood by her side with his arms crossed.

“He’ll be fine,” the head surgeon assured, her manner showing just how often she’d had to do this. She was soothing yet professional. “He came in presenting with a hemopneumothorax, which was the result of a gunshot wound to his upper right shoulder that had penetrated through his shoulder blade. We have repaired the damage to both his shoulder and his lung, but it will take time for him to fully heal.” A set of doors opened behind her, distracting all of them as they looked to see a couple of doctors in scrubs walking out. “He’s in recovery right now.” she continued after a minute. “Once he is settled in his room I will have Doctor Valenti come escort you to see him.”

“Valenti’s with him?” Michael asked in a tone bordering on anger. Even after a year of Kyle knowing Max’s identity, clearly Michael still didn’t trust him. Then again, Liz doubted he trusted anyone.

Doctor Kindelay seemed to take offense at his tone, her face hardening and her back straightening. “I assure you, Mr. Guerin, Doctor Valenti is one of the best surgeons at this hospital. Believe me when I say your brother couldn’t be in safer hands unless they were my own.”

Again, Michael rolled his eyes, evidently not assured in the least. Isobel put a hand on his arm, stopping him from walking away as well as telling him to stop. It always amazed Liz at how the three siblings could have conversations without saying a word. She had often observed the way a touch could convey a sentence that the rest of the world couldn’t hear. Now that she thought about it, however, it was always Isobel who was doing it. Whether she was interacting with Max or with Michael, _she_ was the common factor.

When Kindelay began speaking again, Liz filed that tidbit away to discuss with Max later. “You’ll be allowed to be with him for thirty minutes then we will have to ask you to come back during visiting hours.”

“Thank you Doctor Kindelay,” Isobel said. She paused a minute, shared a hesitant look with Michael, then said, “I’m assuming you saw in Max’s files that he is allergic painkillers?”

He was? Liz hadn’t known that, but she supposed that on some level it made sense. If Max had been able to take something like Tylenol or Ibuprofen, he wouldn’t be using nail polish remover. But that begs the question: what happens when he takes a painkiller?

“Yes, we did. We are instituting other measures to ensure that your brother is not in pain while he is with us.”

“What about when he leaves?” Liz asked before she could think. Of course, Michael and Isobel would give him acetone when he got home, but the question had just seemed so natural that Liz had blurted it out.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” the doctor vaguely answered. “Providing there are no further complications, he’ll be our guest for the next couple of days, then he’ll be moved to the general ward, so we have some time before we need to discuss the options.” She then looked at the sheriff. “May I speak with you for a moment Sheriff?”

“Of course,” Kyle’s mom granted, stepping to the side and towards the surgical bay to allow for private conversation.

“Did you see anything?” Isobel asked as they all took a seat in the waiting room.

Liz shook her head. “Nothing that could help,” she answered, wishing she had. “One minute everything was fine, and the next Max was pulling me to the ground while bullets riddled the cafe.”

“Is that how he got shot?” Michael asked. “Protecting you?”

Liz nodded. “A-a-at least I think so,” she amended. She looked away to regain control of her emotions. The whole thing was still so raw for her that she wasn’t sure she could talk about it without crying. But, Michael and Isobel deserved to know what happened, so she would answer their questions. “I know people say this all the time on TV shows and movies, but, it happened so fast that I can’t be sure.”

“He was there to make sure nothing happened to you,” Isobel said, her tone far less accusatory than her brother’s.

“So that makes it my fault?” Liz snapped, grateful for the calm the anger provided.

“No,” Isobel assured, her brows wrinkling for a moment before her features smoothed. “Just the opposite, actually. It was his choice to go there, to be there for you.” She briefly looked at Michael, her expression harder, then back at Liz. “We don’t blame you for anything.”

Liz was torn between feeling grateful for that fact and wanting to snap at them for believing they should. After all, Liz blamed herself a little bit, so why shouldn’t they? Logically, Liz knew none of this was her fault, that she couldn’t control the actions of a hateful and racist man. But logic didn’t stop guilt from taking root in her heart and getting comfortable. The bullets had been meant for her or her father, not Max.

“Something needs to be done about Wyatt Long,” Michael stated. His tone hinted that he was tired of waiting for things to be handled through more regular channels. Given what Liz had seen him do when they had confronted her at the cafe, she knew Michael could easily take matters into his own hands and no proof would be or could be brought against him. It was a little scary to think what Michael could do given the right circumstances, actually.

“Yeah well, I doubt Sheriff Valenti is going to do much,” Isobel said, her cold gaze focused on the woman in question.

“I think she might,” Liz said as she too focused on the sheriff. When Michael and Isobel looked doubtingly at her, Liz shook her head. “Look, I know she didn’t try all that hard the last time, but this time one of her own was caught in the crossfire. She may not approve of me or my father, but she cares about Max. That might just motivate her to actually do her job this time rather than blaming the first undocumented she can find.” Neither of them looked convinced, and to be fair Liz wasn’t one-hundred percent certain of it herself, but Liz changed the subject before any of them could express their doubts. “I’m surprised Noah didn’t come with you.”

“He was here,” Isobel assured. “But after an hour of waiting I sent him home. He has court in the morning and doesn’t need to be here for this.”

Liz almost mentioned her belief that Noah would want to be here for Isobel, no matter the wait, but they were saved from talking about it more by the approach of Kyle. He looked exhausted, but he managed to offer a smile as he met them. “You guys ready?”

They all stood as one, Liz hanging back to allow Michael and Isobel to lead with Kyle. As much as she wanted to see Max, she felt they should be the ones to see him first. Kyle seemed to understand and, once they had reached the room, hung back with Liz while the other two went inside.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lowered so only the two of them could hear him.

Liz’s gut reaction was to say she was fine, but she stopped herself. Kyle wasn’t only her ex from high school, he was one of the first people she had trusted when she came back to Roswell. At the start he had been a distraction, but then she had gotten to know him better and had found a really good man where there had once been a self-important teenager. For awhile they had continued to have casual sex because it was another way for them to connect. But as things between her and Max slowly began to change, as she grew to trust in him more, she ended that part of their relationship. To this day, Kyle remained one of her best friends, and as a result, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, lie to him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her gaze distant as she stared at the opened door to Max’s room. There were so many emotions going through her that she honestly couldn’t focus on one.

“It’ll take time to process everything,” he said understandingly.

Liz nodded. “Is he really okay?” She didn’t know why she felt the need to ask the question. Doctor Kindelay had told them Max would be fine, but for some reason Liz thought she would believe it more if it came from Kyle. “He isn’t in any pain?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kyle assured, his tone compassionate. “Because of his ‘allergies’, we have put in a local block, which essentially numbs the injured area. Don’t worry,” he put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “he can’t feel a thing.”

In the beginning, neither Kyle nor Max had liked one another. Liz knew it had had _everything_ to do with her, but she hadn’t been able to do anything about it, so she’d left it alone. Eventually, though, the two men had grown to have a grudging respect for each other. Kyle’s had begun after Max had helped the day of the blackout. Max’s had taken a lot longer; he had trouble trusting Kyle with his secret, but as more time had passed, Kyle had shown he could be trusted. They weren’t friends - Liz wasn’t sure if they ever could be - but they were civil and friend-like when around each other.

“I’m glad you were here to do the surgery,” Liz said, truly grateful. She wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to operate on Max. Not that she’d had a say in the matter, of course, but she wouldn’t have felt quite so at ease if it had been another doctor.

“I’m just glad Doctor Kindelay didn’t know of my history with Max,” he answered, relaxing his stance a little and placing his hands in his pockets. “Would’ve made it a hell of a lot harder to convince her to let me take him as my patient.” He waited for a minute, no doubt watching her as she continued to stare at the doorway, then asked, “You ready?”

Liz nodded, not feeling ready in the least but also wanting to see Max.

The room was larger than she would have thought, due in part to it being a single bed room. Liz suspected that was done on purpose to avoid the possibility of intrusion from a roommate’s doctors or family members, but she couldn’t be sure. She knew that getting a room was often the luck of the draw which depended upon availability as well as the patient’s needs. Max lay in the bed in the center of the room with a visitor’s chair on either side. Isobel sat in the one to Max’s left, her back to the door and Michael standing behind her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Liz came to the foot of the bed, her gaze locked on the man in the bed.

He was so still that Liz found herself holding her breath until she saw his chest rise and fall. His face was slack, which made her relax a little since she could see he wasn’t in pain, and his hair was doing that thing it normally did where it fell across his forehead. As Max was usually quick to brush it back, Liz had the desire to do that for him now, but she held back in case it would disturb him.

Liz made her way to the empty chair on his right side, slowly sinking down into it with her gaze fixed on the man in the bed. His right arm rested in a sling that appeared to be strapped around his waist, no doubt to keep it from moving. The gown they’d put him in hid any sign of something being wrong with his shoulder, but Liz found herself staring at it for a good thirty seconds before he gaze was drawn towards the thing that lay on his chest, nestled against the strap of the sling. It looked like a small balloon, no bigger than the palm of her hand, but Liz knew it wasn’t.

“What is that?” Isobel asked, her eyes pointing to the thing Liz was staring at.

“It’s a chest drain,” Kyle answered, stepping further into the room to stand at the foot of Max’s bed. To Liz it put him in a neutral zone, which was probably for the best so it wouldn’t seem as though he were taking sides. “The bullet punctured his lung when it exited. We fixed the damage, but we need to drain thefluid that built up. We will keep it for a couple more days, or until we are sure there is no more fluid in the pleural space, then we will remove it.”

“He won’t have any further problems, though, will he?” Isobel asked, looking almost scared.

Kyle shook his head. “Honestly, since broken bones take longer to heal, the shoulder blade will bother him the most. He’ll have to be patient and ask for help with everyday tasks.”

“Good luck with that,” Michael murmured just loud enough for them all to hear.

Kyle nodded his agreement. “It can be hard at first for someone like Max because he’s so used to doing things on his own, he’s not going to think of having to have someone help him get dressed or drive into town. That’s where you guys are going to come in.” He paused for a moment, looking at each one of them in turn, then said, “But that can wait. I’ll leave you guys to visit for a few more minutes. I’ll have Crystal kick you out when it’s time.”

“Thanks Kyle,” Liz said, her gaze never leaving Max.

“Yeah, thanks _Kyle_ ,” Michael muttered, his dislike of the doctor still very much evident.

Liz glared at Max’s brother. “Really?” she challenged. “Even after all this time you still have a problem with him?”

“Not all of us trust as quickly as you do,” he answered, his gaze angry. Clearly _she_ hasn’t been forgiven yet either.

“Stop it,” Isobel interjected before anything more could be said. She looked first at Michael then at Liz, showing she meant both of them. “There’s no point in arguing about the past, and if either of you wake Max, so help me I’ll kick you both out.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the wakin’ up part, hon, cause I’m about to do that,” a new voice announced as an older, black woman with a kindly face walked into the room, pulling a vital signs machine with her. Crystal, Liz assumed.

“Doesn’t he need to sleep more?” Isobel asked while Liz moved her chair so she wouldn’t be in the nurse’s way.

“He’ll have plenty of opportunity to do that later,” Crystal answered, checking him over as much as she could before she woke him. “We like to keep an eye on them after surgery; make sure nothin’ is goin wrong.”

“Do you need us to leave?” Liz asked, half hoping she’d say yes. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t particularly want to present when Max was woken up; she wasn’t ready to face him yet.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Crystal hedged. “But you won’t be able to stay around much longer, either.”

Seeing an out, Liz took it. “I need to get home anyways,” she excused. “M-m-make sure everything is okay.” She stood, putting the chair out of the way in a corner. “When are visiting hours?”

“You can come back around two.” Crystal placed the vital signs machine off to the side then stepped up to the bed. Looking over Max at his siblings, she asked, “You two gonna stay?”

“I’m going to,” Isobel announced. “In case he gets scared.” When she noticed the incredulous look the nurse was giving her, she added, “He doesn’t like hospitals.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Crystal said, though she sounded as though she didn’t think it was necessary. She looked at Michael and Liz. “Alright, you two. You can come back later.”

After offering a small squeeze of comfort on Isobel’s shoulder, Michael filed out, not even bothering to acknowledge Liz as he passed her. Liz ignored him. Either he’d come around to her eventually or he never would; she couldn’t do anything to sway him one way or the other and she honestly didn’t feel the need to try.

Liz hesitated a little longer, torn between wanting to tell him she’d be back or running away. She hovered where she was for a moment then, when both women gave her expectant looks, she pivoted and left. Kyle was waiting for her outside the door, dressed in street clothes and looking as tired as she felt. 

“Mind if I escort you home?”

“Did your mother put up to this?” she asked as they fell in step and headed to the parking lot.

“No,” he said, sounding mildly offended. “But I _did_ hear that she brought you here, so I figured you could use a ride home. If you’d rather walk, I can certainly let you do that, though I wouldn’t recommend it at this time of night.”

They both laughed at that. Liz hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to until then. For fear of it turning into her crying, she quickly stopped, only to find that it was too late. Tears fell down her cheeks, the flow slow but steady. Kyle gave her a look of understanding then pulled her in for a hug, holding her as all of the emotions she’d tried to keep at bay came crashing into her.

“Sorry,” she said once she was finished. “Guess I needed that.”

He waited a little bit, checking her over to ensure she was truly done, then once again started heading for his car. “I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did,” he said, dismissing her apology since he clearly didn’t believe one was owed.

“Me too, quite frankly,” Liz answered as she climbed into his truck. “So,” she said once they were moving. “Were you already there when Max came in or did you get called in?”

He smirked, though why she didn’t know. “I was just finishing a shift when I got the call.” He gave an off-handed shrug. “Figured I’d stick around and help out.”

Liz shifted so she was facing him a bit better. “I’m sorry,” she teased, a smile in her voice. “Have you learned how to be humble? Maybe Max is starting to rub off on you.”

“God forbid _that_ ever happen,” Kyle half prayed, half joked.

“There are worse things to have happen,” she said, merely thinking out loud.

All of them had come a long way since high school. To Liz, none had changed quite as much as Kyle. As a teenager, Kyle had been combative, proud, and a jerk to those he thought below him. Oftentimes that included Max, of which Liz had never approved; she had tried to point it out to him, but she had been ignored. When Liz had first come back, it had seemed like nothing had changed. He was still kind and almost loving towards her, but he still bristled whenever Max was brought into the picture. Now, he was caring and patient towards everyone, even Max. It was a nice change.

The diner was dark when they pulled up, but the lights above it were on; her dad was still awake, or at least leaving the lights on so she didn’t kill herself trying to get to her room. Kyle pulled up to the front door, putting his truck in park and sitting back in his seat. Liz appreciated him not expecting to come in; he wasn’t the one she wanted to be with right now.

“Thanks for the ride, Kyle,” she said as she unbuckled.

“Anytime,” he answered on a sigh, looking drained. “I’ll see you at the hospital later?”

“Yeah.” Liz smiled. “Goodnight.”

He smiled and waved his response, waiting for her to get into the cafe and lock the door behind her before he drove away. Through the boarded up windows, Liz heard when he left. It was almost three in the morning, but as Liz trudged up the stairs, she wondered if she’d be able to sleep, or would the images of the night, of Max getting shot and bleeding on the floor, haunt her dreams. She turned out the lights, refusing to dwell on all of that as she made her way to her room, stripped, and climbed in bed. Hopefully sheer stubbornness alone would keep the nightmares at bay. But even as Liz began to drift off to sleep, she knew it wouldn’t. The trauma of this night was going to haunt her for a long time to come.

 

**oOo**

  
****

Isobel watched the nurse as she began to wake Max up. She called his name for a good couple of minutes before he began to respond, something which made Isobel snort; Max had never been easy to wake up, even when they were little.

“Come on, Max,” the nurse, Crystal, coaxed. Had this woman met Max before, or did she simply prefer to refer to her patients by first name? “I need ya to open those beautiful brown eyes for me, hun.”

Max’s brows furrowed, a groan rumbling in his chest. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to open them, his head turning towards the voice. “Crystal?” he said groggily. He definitely knew her. Slowly his eyes opened, focusing on the older woman.

“Hey there handsome,” she greeted with a smile. “How are you feeling?” She moved the small balloon, disconnected it from the tube, then plugged the tube into the wall above Max’s bed. “Are you in any pain?” While she waited for an answer, she squatted down then popped back up less than thirty seconds later.

Once again, Max’s brows furrowed. He rolled his head so that he could see his situation better, taking in the hospital setting, the bed, and IV tube. Isobel knew the exact moment when her brother realized what was going on; she felt his panic surge through her, giving her an adrenaline boost she didn’t need.

“Max, hey,” she called, instantly reaching out and placing her hands on his forearm. Isobel could fear his powers beginning to waken, the electricity raising the hair on her arms. “Max!” she called more forcefully; none of them needed him flipping out right now. When Max’s gaze snapped to hers, she smiled, rubbing gentle circles on his arm with her thumb. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, exuding as much calm as she could knowing he would feel it too. “It’s okay,” she repeated when he obviously hadn’t relaxed even a fraction. “You were shot,” she explained, making sure to keep her voice even. “Kyle patched you up and you’re gonna be fine.”

Although Isobel knew neither Max or Kyle had been friends anytime in the years forming their childhood or after they’d graduated, the past year had slowly begun to change that. Isobel certainly wouldn’t call them buddies, but the fact that Kyle had kept Max’s secret almost as faithfully as Liz had, had helped Max extend a small measure of trust toward the doctor. Since Valenti roughly knew what Max was, it was a fair bet that any oddities that could have been found during surgery would have been covered up.

Isobel felt Max’s powers slowly recede as his mind worked through everything she had said. When the storm had passed, both Isobel and Max looked over at the nurse, who was watching them with raised eyebrows. Whatever opinions she had, however, she kept them to herself.

“Sorry,” Max apologized, sounding marginally more awake. He cleared his throat, his brows furrowing again, then said, “Sorry Crystal, what did you ask?”

“I asked if you were in any pain,” she answered, lifting up the side of Max’s gown just enough so she could see the dressing that lay beneath before lowering it again. “But judging by that wince, I guess I have my answer.” 

Max sluggishly shook his head. “I’m fine,” he assured, his voice more raw than usual.

Crystal grabbed the vitals machine and rolled it with her as she came to Isobel’s side. It took Iz a moment to figure out what was going on, then she quickly moved out of the way, making sure to stay within Max’s line of sight as she did. Crystal swiftly slipped the blood pressure cuff on Max’s left bicep then added the pulse ox monitor to his finger before turning the machine on and keeping tabs of his pulse. “Any nausea?” she asked, her gaze switching between her watch and Max, her fingers gently encasing Max’s wrist.

Max swallowed thickly, the action looking uncomfortable. “No,” he answered, giving a minute shake of his head.

“Good,” Crystal said, pulling out an iPad and recording her findings in Max’s file. Peering behind her, she looked at the IV bag, fiddling with it a moment before typing something more into the file. “I’ll bring you some water in a little bit. It should help with the soreness.” She put the iPad away then unstrapped the cuff and took the monitor off his finger, placing them both back into the shelf on the vitals machine. “Providing you can keep that down, I’ll bring you some juice for breakfast.”

“Sounds filling,” he mumbled, his eyes getting a bit heavier.

She walked out without a word, quickly returning with a small cup of water in her hand. “Trust me,” she said as she helped Max drink it. “It will feel plenty filling at the time.”

Max didn’t swallow the entire cup, but as Crystal didn’t seem concerned, Isobel refused to worry about it.

“Alright,” she said, placing the leftover water on the tray by the bed. “I’ll come back to check on you in an hour or so,” she warned. She walked around the bed, placing a small remote by Max’s left hand. “You press this if you need me in the meantime. You got it?”

Max smirked as much as he was able to. “I got it.”

Crystal nodded, seeming pacified. Then she looked at Isobel. “Time for you to go, hun.”

Isobel nodded, knowing the nurse was right. “I’ll be back a little later, okay?” Replacing Crystal at Max’s left side, Isobel bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Be good.”

“What else would I be?” he asked, teasing.

Isobel rolled her eyes, refusing to take the bait. Gathering up her things, she looked at the nurse, “You’ll call if he needs anything?” Isobel knew Max would be fine, that he wasn’t likely to need anything from her, but she couldn’t help fussing. Even though they were all the same age, she still felt like the big sister sometimes, and in that capacity she had grown to be _very_ protective of her brothers.

“He’ll be fine,” Crystal assured, gently herding Isobel out the door. “You go on home and get some rest. He’ll be looking much better by the time you come back.”

Isobel looked at the doorway to Max’s room, her hesitation to leave him just as strong as Liz’s had obviously been. When she looked back at the nurse, Crystal’s expression was one of patient understanding, proving she had dealt with this many times during her career. Isobel mustered up a smile. “Thank you,” she said.

“Go on,” Crystal encouraged, nodding her head towards the elevator.

Trusting the nurse as right, Isobel forced herself to leave. She _was_ tired and could use a solid eight hours of sleep. Knowing that if Max truly needed her, he’d call to her, Isobel got into her car and drove home.

 

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for taking so long to get this out. At first I struggled with writing another chapter of hospital scenes; once I accepted that that wasn't going to happen, personal stuff struck hard and made it hard to want to do anything, including write. 
> 
> I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. I'll try to get the next one out within the week. 
> 
> M

**3**

 

 

By Friday, Liz was ready for the weekend. Between trying to make sure her current samples didn’t expire early and checking in on Max every night after her shift, she was exhausted, and she knew Kyle felt the same. It didn’t surprise her that Max wasn’t a very cooperative patient, nor that Kyle was ready to shoot Max himself; what shocked her was that both men were still alive.

Her phone vibrated as she placed her lab coat on the coat rack by the door. Pulling it out of her back pocket, Liz sighed. Every night after her shift ended, Kyle had sent her a text to check in on her. Sometimes it was him asking her for a dinner date, sometimes it was just him seeing how she was doing. The latest shooting at the Crashdown had rattled him and he chose to show it by talking with her more often.

_Need you down here._

Not what she was expecting, but since Kyle had been denying Max’s request for release from the hospital every day since Max had woken up, she probably should have. Grabbing her purse, Liz hurried down to Max’s hospital room. She heard why Kyle had called her for support far before she ever reached Max’s room. The deep, angry tone, she knew to be Max’s. The other voice was easily identifiable only because of it’s very feminine tone. It hadn’t been the voice she’d expected, but Liz supposed that if anyone was going to argue with Max, it was going to be Isobel; neither Michael nor Kyle were as protective of Max as his sister was.

“Max, even your doctor thinks you aren’t well enough to leave yet.” The amount of pleading in Isobel’s voice slammed into Liz with enough force that she felt as though the emotion was her own. Evidently Kyle hadn’t been the only one majorly affected by the shooting.

Kyle began to contradict the blonde, but he was quickly cut off by Max. “Much as I appreciate Doctor Valenti’s care, he and I both know that he can no longer keep me here against my will.”

When Liz walked in before anyone else could say anything, all eyes turned to her, making her freeze for a moment in shock. Michael rolled his eyes, evidently believing she didn’t need to be there; Isobel glared at her for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest, then she turned her back on Liz; Kyle pushed against the wall where he had apparently planted himself to remain neutral during the situation and approached her; and Max, Max froze on the spot, his right arm in a sling and held tightly against his chest, seemingly captivated by her.

“Will you please talk some sense into him?” Isobel snapped, now rounding on her brother with something akin to murder in her eyes.

Liz remained frozen for a second longer, then she looked at Kyle. “What is your professional opinion?”

“Liz,” Max began, stopping when Liz held up a hand. She wanted to know what Kyle thought before she weighed in.

Kyle looked at Max and then Isobel before returning his gaze to Liz. “Honestly, there’s little else we can do for him here,” he answered, his voice low as though he was trying to whisper. The room was quiet enough that everyone probably heard him, but he continued in the same, quiet, volume. “The only thing we can do is monitor how his incision is healing, and you could easily do that from his house.”

“What about pain relief?” she asked, mirroring his volume.

“I assumed he’d use acetone,” Kyle answered, making it sound like it was obvious.

“Right, of course.” Liz had forgotten that was an option. She’d gotten used to the fact that he couldn’t actually feel his shoulder. Secretly, she’d hoped that that would continue after he was discharged, but logically she knew that wasn’t possible. Now, the idea of his being in pain made her stomach churn and she made a note to stock up on nail polish remover.

“You guys _do_ realize we can hear you, right?” Michael asked, clearly running out of patience.

Kyle rolled his eyes and pivoted so he could face the room as a whole. “Yes, we know that,” Liz answered, her voice echoing Kyle’s eye roll. She then sighed, facing off with Isobel. “I don’t think he needs to stay here,” she said, her tone gentle with a touch of pleading in it. She really didn’t want Max’s sister mad at her; even if she _did_ ask for her opinion. She glanced at Max, not missing the way he relaxed at her vote of confidence. “And I think he would heal better at home.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief in his voice.

She rounded on him. “I’m telling you right now, Max Evans, if you don’t do everything Isobel or I say, I will knock you out and bring you right back here and let Kyle strap you to the bed until _he’s_ satisfied that you should be released.”

Max held up his left hand in surrender. “I promise.”

Liz nodded and looked at Kyle. “Is he all set to leave?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a nod, the tension practically draining out of him. “Yeah, he’s free to go.”

Liz nodded again, showing she heard, then looked at Max. “I’ll drive you home. I was on my way out anyways.”

“We’ll stop by the store then meet you there,” Isobel said.

At first, Liz couldn’t understand what they could need from the store, but then it hit her - acetone. She suspected Max might also need some groceries, but she had no proof of that and so kept her mouth shut. If all else failed, she’d grab some when she went next visited him. She looked at Max, “Is there anything you need to grab?”

He shook his head, his hair falling across his forehead. “I’m ready whenever you are.” 

“Let’s go.” Liz wasn’t sure she was up to a night of babysitting an obstinate deputy, but she was definitely ready to leave here.

Max waited until they were halfway to the parking lot before he spoke up. “Thanks for having my back in there. I think Isobel was one good mind warp away from forcing me to stay.” 

“Why did you even need me there?” she asked, unlocking her car and getting in. She waited until Max stiffly sat down in the passenger seat and buckled in before she started the car. “You guys had Kyle there to be the tiebreaker; you didn’t need me.”

“Neither Michael nor Isobel would listen to Kyle,” Max answered, his breath hitching as they ran over one of the many potholes. “They still don’t trust him.”

“Well they should. Kyle’s been nothing but loyal to your family, and mine, since I came back.” She paused, turning down the road that would take them to Max’s house. “I realize his loyalty was forced on you guys, but he’s not given you any reason to doubt him.”

“Liz, I know,” Max gently said, bringing Liz up short.

It wasn’t until she’d heard him that she realized how defensive she was being; how angry. She sighed, unsure where the anger was coming from. “I’m sorry,” she said, deflating.

“Look, I tried to get them to listen to Kyle,” Max continued, apparently refusing to acknowledge her apology. “They’re slow to trust, and in spite of all that Kyle has done, they’re still hesitant.”

“Stubborn sounds more appropriate,” Liz muttered, giving a small smirk when she heard Max snort in laughter.

“That too.”

The sun was almost done setting by the time they arrived at Max’s home. Although no lights were on inside the house, the hues of sunset painted it in various shades of pinks and yellows, making it look welcoming and warm. Liz stayed in the car to watch the sun paint the sky. No matter how long she lived here, or how little she liked being here, the sunrises and sunsets always got to her.

“Thanks for the ride,” Max said, unbuckling. “I’ll see you later.”

“Oh I’m not leaving,” Liz answered, freezing Max in place. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not?”

“Somebody’s got to make sure you behave til your sister gets here.” As much as she wanted to, Liz knew she wasn’t in any shape to stay with him tonight. The week had been exhausting, both mentally and physically. Tonight she just needed sleep.

His features softened, a look of something close to pity in his eyes. “You don’t have to stay, Liz. I promise to be good until Isobel and Michael get here.”

For a second, Liz contemplated taking him up on that promise. “Tempting, but no. ” she said. “Sorry. You’re stuck with me.” Max chuckled at that, stopping with a wince, his teeth clamped shut in pain. Liz winced in sympathy. “Come on,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt and opening her door. “You _may_ have to wait for the official pain reliever, but I’m sure you have plenty of tequila that will work in the meantime.”

She waited for him to get out of the car before she headed for the house. His movements were slow and pain-filled, showing just how much he was hurting. Guilt briefly gnawed at her before it was replaced by anger; she hadn’t been the one to shoot him, and if the authorities had done their job right the first time, the person who _had_ shot him wouldn’t have been able to. Still, it hurt her to see him hurting. It always had.

“Give me your keys,” she commanded, holding out her hand.

His hair fell over his forehead as he looked down at her, making her go a little weak in the knees. “I’m capable of unlocking my own door, Liz,” he told her even as he awkwardly pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her.

Liz caught them in a swift motion, then turned and unlocked his door. “Maybe, but it was gonna be faster with me doing it.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong about that,” he agreed, settling onto his couch with a heavy sigh. He winced then shifted into a better position.

While Max was shifting, Liz grabbed the throw pillow from the side opposite him and placed it behind his back. He moved the other one so that he was leaning into it with his left side, leaving his injured right not touching anything. The position didn’t look comfortable in the least, but Liz supposed it was the best he was going to get for the moment…at least until his shoulder blade healed more.

Nervous energy coursed through her. While she allowed Max to settle in, Liz went into his kitchen and started rooting through his cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer. There had to be something she could use to make a meal.

“If you’re looking for food, you’re looking in the wrong place.” He smiled when she popped out of the kitchen, the smirk melting her heart. “I haven’t been to the store in weeks.” He paused, now looking uncomfortable, and shrugged with one shoulder. “I’ve been eating out for a lot of my meals.”

Meaning he’d been so busy hanging out at the Crashdown that he hadn’t taken the time to go to the store. Great. Liz sighed, sitting on the ledge of the kiva fireplace as she felt her energy drain out of her. “This can’t happen again, Max.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What can’t?”

“You can’t keep being my personal bodyguard.” Max ducked his head, silently acknowledging the truth of what he’d been doing. “Look, I-I appreciated you watching out for me, but I can’t go through this again. I can’t have you hurt because you’re protecting me.”

“Liz-”

“-No, hear me out.” She moved from the fireplace to the sofa, taking his left hand into hers. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, following the veins down to his wrists before settling in the middle where she rubbed gentle circles while she thought. “I know that you love me, and that you somehow think it’s your job to protect me. But Max, there are others in this town who need you just as much as I do; more probably. I am not some damsel in distress that needs her knight in shining armor to come to her rescue; I never have been.” She paused for a minute to see how this was taken. When she saw him open his mouth to argue, she rushed ahead. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s been nice having you around, but…I don’t like you being in the line of fire because of me.” He shifted, apparently having grown uncomfortable with his position, then froze. Liz sighed. “And it kills me that you are in pain because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he said, his tone short. “Wyatt Long is to blame for all of this. Not you.”

“I know that,” Liz assured him. “Believe me, I’m well aware of just who is to blame. But-”

“-Sorry to interrupt this little moment you two are having, but these bags are heavy and it’s getting cold out there,” Michael interrupted, not looking sorry in the least bit.

“What, a big man like you can’t handle a couple of grocery bags?” Liz challenged, mildly annoyed that he’d barged in, but not at all surprised.

“So you _did_ notice,” Michael answered, loudly setting the bags down on the counter. Liz and Max rolled their eyes in unison, but said nothing since they didn’t want to encourage him. “Here,” he said, tossing a bottle of nail polish remover to Liz. “That should help make him more comfortable.”

“Him?” Max said, taking exception to being talked about like he wasn’t there. Still, he took the opened bottle and drank it down like a man dying of thirst. The fact that Max was in that much pain and was able to hide it from Liz spoke volumes. She was going to have to keep a very close eye on him over the next few days if she was going to keep on top of his pain relief.

“Don’t try to act like you haven’t been pretending to be all macho in front of Liz,” Michael lectured, not bothered by Max’s tone. Seeing his brother quickly empty the first bottle, he tossed a second one to Liz who swiftly opened it and handed it over.

As she watched him begin the second bottle, it hit her. “The tequila!”

Isobel froze in Max’s doorway, a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. “What?”

“I figured it would take you guys a while to get here so I told Max we’d make a start with the tequila,” Liz explained, feeling horrible. “I’m so sorry, Max, I completely forgot.”

This time Max’s smile was a bit more of a chuckle, almost like he found her adorable. “It’s fine, Liz. I’m fine.” 

Except that he wasn’t. He had a bullet hole in his shoulder…no, forget that, he had one in his _lung_ because a racist asshole decided to take offense to her existence in this town. Choosing not to pursue that line of thinking for the moment, Liz sighed. “Well now that they’re here, I’m gonna head home. It’s been a _long_ week and I could use at least twelve hours of sleep.” Bringing his hand to her mouth, she gave his knuckles a kiss. “I’ll drop by tomorrow around lunch.”

“Thanks for the ride, Liz. And for keeping me company.”

She smiled at him then stood. “Call me if you need anything,” she told his siblings. 

“Don’t worry. We won’t,” Michael answered, earning a glare from Isobel and Max. “What?”

“Thanks for staying with him,” Isobel said as she walked Liz to her car. “He’s putting up a good front, but he’s hurting a lot right now and you being around helps with that.”

“I didn’t realize he was in that much pain until you guys got here,” Liz admitted, unlocking her car, getting in and then rolling down the driver’s side window. “You’ll have to help me see the tells so I know for the future.”

“I don’t know his tells,” Isobel admitted, her blouse blowing freely in the desert breeze. “I could feel it all the way across town.”

Damn, her connection with Max was crazy-good!

“Right, well, if that happens again, let me know. He shouldn’t have to be in that much pain.”

“I heard what you were saying to him when we arrived,” Isobel admitted, stopping Liz from driving away. “And I get that you don’t want him in any more danger because of you, but you’re not going to be able to convince him to stop. It’s who he is.”

Liz absorbed that for a minute, her gaze briefly flicking to the man in question before returning it back to his sister. “Maybe,” she hedged. “But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

“Good luck with that,” Isobel said with a snort. She walked away after that, apparently having said what she wanted to say.

“Yeah,” Liz said into the silence. If this past year had proved anything to her, it was just how bull-headed Max Evans could be.

 

 

**oOo**

 

 

By the time Liz woke up the next day, the sun was high in the sky and the diner below thrummed with activity. For a minute, Liz simply lay in her bed, listening to the customers and workers below as they went about their day. While the diner was her father’s American dream, she had to admit, she liked living above it. The sounds of people cooking, ordering, chatting, were very familiar to her, and comforting.

The minute Liz started debating going back to sleep, was the minute she got up, immediately checking the her phone for the time as well as to see if Max, Isobel, or Michael had called or texted. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw nothing but the clock telling her it was almost eleven. Wow, she must have really needed the sleep if she had slept that long; normally Liz was up by nine at the latest.

“Mija?” her dad called through her closed door. He knocked then slowly opened it, peeking through to make sure she was decent. The smell of fresh coffee wafted in as he came in, the cup in his hand hopefully for her. “Estás bein? It’s late.”

“Sí, Papi, sí. I was just needed some extra sleep,” she assured, sitting up in bed and taking the mug from him. She inhaled deeply before taking a small sip of the steaming liquid. “It sounds busy down there.”

Her dad nodded. “I’m glad the incident last week hasn’t driven away the customers.”

“Well, where else are they gonna go for a decent meal in this town?” Liz countered, perfectly serious.

As far as small towns went, there were a fair number of local restaurants among the smattering of fast food chains, including one for every major cuisine a towny or a tourist may want. The Crashdown often drew the notice of the tourists because of its quirky names, cute outfits for the waitresses, and decent prices, but it was also a staple for the locals since it was the only place where you were guaranteed to get authentic and delicious New Mexican food.

“True,” her dad conceded without a trace of arrogance in his voice yet a smile on his face - he had a reason to be proud of his little diner and he knew it. He sat down on her bed while she slowly finished the cup of coffee he’d brought. “Will you be visiting Max Evans today?”

Liz nodded. “He managed an early release from the hospital yesterday, so I’m going to hang out with him at his house. I don’t want him being alone yet; he still needs help doing a lot of things.”

“Good,” Papi said, warmth in his voice. “I have made a care package of sorts; you can take it with you when you go.”

“A care package?” she asked, her tone dry. 

“It’s just a bit of food for him so he doesn’t have to worry about trying to cook,” her dad assured her, taking the now empty mug from her hands and heading for the door. “I should get back to work. Will you be eating something before you go?”

Liz shook her head. “I figured I’d make something when I got there. I’m honestly not sure if either Isobel or Michale can cook and I want to make sure Max gets at least one good meal in him.”

“Well, I made some carnitas, some sopapillas, and some enchiladas, so you two can choose from those which you’re going to eat first.” At the mention of the food, Liz’s mouth started to water and her stomach growled. It had been over twelve hours since she’d last eaten, and she was starving. Her father chuckled. “Perhaps you should eat some breakfast before you go. I wouldn’t want you to show up to Max’s and have all the food gone.”

“Not _all_ of it would have been gone,” Liz granted, sharing in the joke. “I would have shown up with the chiles and sopas at least.” She paused to allow her stomach to finish rumbling again, then asked, “Can you make me a breakfast stuffed sopa smothered in green chile?”

“Of course, mija.”

Liz collapsed back against the pillows once he left. She wasn’t really ready to get up, but she had told Max she’d visit around lunch, and she wasn’t about to let herself become a liar. Sighing, Liz kicked the blankets off and got ready to greet the day.

 

 

**oOo**

 

 

“Don’t you think this is a bit overkill, Is?”

Isobel took a moment to observe the mound of pillows she’d propped Max on. Her brother stared at her, affectionate patience in his face. Pillows seemed to be sprouting from behind him, the edges of the pillowcases looking like limp vines. Most of them were focused on his left side and lower back, essentially ensuring that nothing touched his right shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mock her,” Michael warned, entering Max’s bedroom holding a bottle of nail polish remover and a glass of water, “she might add more.”

Max chuckled, “Good point.” He swallowed the water like it was a shot of bourbon, then slowly sipped the acetone like it was water. Sometimes it never ceased to amaze Isobel just how different they were from the rest of the world. It was always the small things that brought it home to her; she’d gotten used to the larger things - Max’s healing, Michael’s telekinesis, her mind manipulation - a long time ago, but the smaller things were always what really made it obvious. “You guys don’t have to stay,” he said, handing the empty glass back to Michael. “Liz should be here soon.”

“Great! Cause, I have better things to do than babysit you.”

Sometimes she could just smack Michael. Instead, she settled for rolling her eyes. “Michael,” she said on an aggravated sigh.

Michael held up his hands in surrender, but even so he quickly scurried out before they could stop him. Isobel scoffed then looked at her remaining brother. “You look a little better,” she admitted, finding a sort of peace in that observation. “Do me a favor, don’t let the pain get too bad before you tell Liz. I mean, I’m sure she’s going to constantly ply you with acetone anyways, but still, don’t play macho just for her. It’s not what either of you need.”

Max sighed. “Liz doesn’t need to know if I’m in pain, Isobel; it’ll only add to the guilt she already feels.”

“Maybe,” Isobel admitted, sitting on the edge of his bed. “But so will being powerless to help.” She placed her hand on his jean-clad shin. “There’s nothing you can do to stop her from feeling guilty about your getting shot, but there is something you can do to help her get over it - let her be the hero for once, let _her_ take care of _you_.”

Max’s phone ringing stopped any further conversation, which was fine with Isobel since she had said all that she had planned to say on that subject; whatever happened next was up to Max and Liz. Max attempted to reach his phone with his free hand, but couldn’t quite get to it. “Here,” Isobel said, grabbing it for him and handing it to him. “It’s Liz.”

“Answer it,” he told her, sounding tired. Isobel did as she was bid, placing the call on speakerphone so they both could hear the conversation.

There was a pause then, _“Max?”_

“I’m here,” he assured the love of his life. “I couldn’t reach the phone so Isobel put you on speaker.”

_“Can she or Michael meet me outside? My dad sent some food with me as a sort of care package.”_

“‘Some food’?” Isobel quoted, wondering why she couldn’t handle what sounded like a small amount on her own.

Max rolled his eyes at her. “Will you please just go help her?”

Knowing full-well that if she didn’t, he would, Isobel sighed. “Fine.” Looking at the phone she asked, “Are you almost here?”

_“I’m standing outside, actually.”_

“You might have mentioned you were here already,” Isobel said, annoyed. Handing the phone to her brother, she stood up. “Stay here.”

“Where else would I go?” he quipped with a smirk.

Refusing to make a reply to that, Isobel went to go help Liz.

 

 

**oOo**

 

 

“Did your dad think he was feeding a small army?”

“It’s possible,” Liz granted as she and Isobel carried the last of it into Max’s house. Actually, she was certain her father had been counting on Max having a large appetite, something which Liz wasn’t sure he ever had, but she didn’t say it. Max’s eating habits were not a subject she wanted to discuss with his sister. “I don’t suppose you want to take some home with you?”

Isobel side-eyed the containers, nibbling on her lips. Then she shrugged. “Sure. I’ll take the carnitas, Max doesn’t really like those.”

“Great!” Liz said, relieved. After the breakfast she’d had, she doubted she and Max would be able to make a dent in the food she’d brought. Having Isobel take some home meant she wouldn’t have to try as hard to make it happen. She hesitated, wanting to go see Max, but unsure if she should do that first or put the food in the fridge as both were equal on her to-do list at this point.

“Max is in his room if you want to go see him,” Isobel offered, evidently sensing some of what Liz was feeling. “I’ll take what I want of the food then put it away; I doubt Max will want anything to eat soon.”

“How is he feeling?” Liz asked, sure she’d get a more straightforward answer from Isobel than from him.

“He’s better. I think being out of the hospital helps; it’s less stressful here.” Isobel placed the sopapillas on the edge of the counter then grabbed a couple containers. “He seemed a bit tired when I came out here, but he wasn’t in too much pain.”

Liz nodded, taking that all in. In the grand scheme of things, it all made sense. Being in the hospital was stressful for anyone, but for someone who was constantly terrified of someone finding out that they’re an alien, that feeling would be magnified by one hundred. At home, Max felt safe and was away from prying eyes, which would allow him to relax and let himself heal. His being tired didn’t surprise her either; his body was still trying to recover from the trauma it had gone through, he was bound to be exhausted.

“Thanks,” Liz said, though what, specifically, she was thanking Isobel for, she couldn’t quite pin down.

The generalness didn’t seem to matter to the other woman who merely nodded and continued with what she was doing. With a quiet sigh, Liz headed to the back of the house to check on the man she loved.

 

 

**TBC**


End file.
